


He Said He Had A Story

by fishingboatblues



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Accidental Incest, Glory Hole, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitute Grunkle Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishingboatblues/pseuds/fishingboatblues
Summary: Stan gets hired as a hooker for a night at a frat party, but as fate would have it Ford has somehow found himself at the exact same party. But more importantly he finds himself requesting Stan’s services, unknowing of the man behind the gloryhole door.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as a gift to my friend Linn!
> 
> Title based on this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niLYajHbl4s)

The best thing about college students, in Stan’s opinion, is that by this time of the year their stress levels are higher than a hippie at Woodstock. The good thing about end of the year exams is that many college students find themselves going insane with stress, and luckily for Stan’s unfortunate as fuck career path, those with enough cash go looking for some kind of outlet.

Stan’s ass or mouth are a much better outlet than playing beer pong at 3 am, much better than sadly jerkin’ it in a dorm room alone at the very fuckin’ least. And so that’s how he finds himself hired for a party in the local run down fraternity house, with a group of kids barely older than he was when he started giving it up for anybody with a big enough wallet.

The kids that hired him for tonight look nervous and edgy and maybe a tad too straight for what Stan has to offer, but Stan knows that if you’re stressed enough and _drunk_ enough that it really doesn’t matter who you’re fucking as long as your dick is buried balls deep.

It’s not a pretty job and in all honestly Stan would rather be selling Stan Vacs right now, rather than _being_ one himself, that is. But it’s the only consistent job he’s had, it’s not like drug trafficking or pug smuggling; all he needs is himself and no matter where you go in the world there’s always gonna be some lonely jackass looking to get his rocks off.

Wherever there are people there’s always gonna be a client base, it’s just finding the clients, and not being arrested for his trade, that’s the difficult part.

However tonight is one of his luckier nights, at least he’s got a roof above his head and food in his belly as he casually slides inside of a closet with a shutter door ‘carefully’ altered to allow for a discreet use of his…skills.

The room’s located upstairs, away from most of the hustle and bustle and it’s a good thing too since he likes playing each client by ear; it’s good business to know which particular tricks get a guy groaning like a dying wildebeest. It’s hard to do that when the Beatles are too busy singing about some yellow submarine to give Stan a break, fuck, it’s hard sucking cock _period_ when any one of the classics are playing.

It reminds him too much of Ford and how they’d play shit on the radio whilst fixing up the Stan o’ War. It’s one of the few memories he’d rather keep pure, ya know? It’s one of the few good memories that he still has, it’d be a shame to fuck that up with the sense memory of sucking some asshole’s dick in a back alley in New Mexico, or somewhere equally as unfortunate.

He’s almost bored as he kneels on the carpeted inside of the closet, waiting for the party to pick up enough so that his first john of the night makes an appearance. The waiting is always the worst part in Stan’s opinion, it’s the fucking uncertainty of it, ya know? He’s not the most patient guy out there, but it’s more the worry of all the shit that could go _wrong_ than makes him feel more than a little uneasy.

It’s not like he hasn’t already been paid, but as always it’s the hope of tips that keep him rooted to the closet floor.

He sighs and is just about to get up and stretch his legs a little but that’s when he hears it; footsteps excitedly climbing the stairs. He knows better than to get his hopes up, but he’s quickly proven right when not too long afterwards comes a nervous knock on the wood and soon enough a dick is slipping between the gaps in the wood.

Stan just stares ahead of him for a couple of seconds, already planning some kind erotic attack. He’s impulsive, but when he’s sucking some guy’s dick? He likes to at least go charging in with some game plan, if only to get the shitty experience over and done with as quick as humanly possible.

Finally, he leans forward and wraps a sweaty fist around the base of it. By the feel and look of it Stan can tell the cock’s a little below average in length, and its girth isn’t anything too special as to warrant more than a distant level of interest. Stan can see why this kid’s paying for blowies rather than getting them free of charge from some of the looser sorority sisters.

Ignoring the part of him that still occasionally feels shame, he starts jerking it off with an experienced hand. His other hand is busying itself with the guy’s fuzzy balls, rolling them between his fingers in a way that has the guy grunting.

He pumps the cock a couple of times and the guy thrusts into the tight ring of his calloused hand. Stan, knowing what he is about to do next, takes a deep breath and angles the guy’s member just right, with a practised tongue he traces the head and pokes his tongue boldly at the slit.

Sucking rhythmically at the head he hears the john groan a cruse under his breath. Stan wants to laugh at how quick it’s taking to get this guy hot under the collar, but he remembers he used to be the same before all of this. Now though? Sex is just a normal, day to day part of his life. Sometimes in ways he’d rather it not be, but it’s not like he willingly chose this life, it’s not like he had a choice in the first place.

That all went out the door the moment Pa threw him out of theirs.

To Stan credit, or to the detriment of the other male’s significant lack of stamina, the john comes quickly and with a nasally grunt that makes Stan wish the music was in fact a tad louder. Always the gentlemen he swallows the man’s come down like a champ.

Stan rolls his eyes when the guy takes an obnoxiously long amount of time to buckle up his belt. To Stan’s surprise the kid does in fact slide a twenty through the gap, it’s not the best tip he’s had but it most assuredly isn’t the worst; he once had a stoned guy tip him with a coupon for muffins once.  He managed to use it in the end, but still; not exactly the kind of tip a guy expects when sucking dick for money.

The night continues in very much a similar way, time is marked by each change of song and Stan hazards a guess that at least two or maybe three hours have passed with him taking it like pro. John after john arrive tense and horny but leave sated and with a skip in their step, all thanks to the skills that make up Stan’s erotic repertoire.

It’s as boring as it is predictable and very little separates each client from the next, it’s only when he hears several footsteps on the hallway landing that his curiosity is peaked; up till now it’s only been one frat boy at a time so it’s a little weird, weird but monetarily appreciated, that suddenly several guys are clamouring to fuck his mouth.

He frowns when he hears them talking amongst themselves.

“I-I don’t usually do this sort of thing, ah, perhaps we should go back downstairs?” Says a voice that has Stan squinting. It sounds so familiar, it sounds almost like Ford, but Stan knows that can’t be the case; Ford would never go to some stupid frat party, he’s much too nerdy and uptight for that.

Besides his Sixer would never end up at some crappy school like Backupsmore, right? No matter what bullshit Stan pulled Ford was just too smart to end up at shit hole like this.

He can hear several pairs of feet shuffling on the shag rug outside. “Come on, four eyes, don’t ya want to get ya dick sucked?” One of the frat boys asks, the leer in his voice is obvious. “It’s ain’t like we don’t already got a pretty girl in that closet, ya might as well just slip ya dick inside and get a freebie since we paid her for the party.”

Ah, Stan knows what this is. Their intention is fucking obvious now; they want whoever this kid is to get blown so that they can pull the rug out underneath him later and call him gay.

Normally Stan would take no part in this, but they’ve already paid for his services and he doubts he can make it out of the frat house without some kind of bullshit happening. The last thing he wants is to get arrested again for like trespassing or some other shit.

So he keeps his mouth shut, well he keeps it shut for the two minutes it takes for the nerd on the other side of the door to decide exactly how he intends the night to go. The kid’s indecision must get too much for the other guy for he huffs an irritated growl and leaves the guy to it.

“Ah, I-I never done this before.” He remarks, nervous energy causing his voice to shake. Stan hates how much those words light a fire in his stomach, he’s already noticed the similarities between this guy…and his brother, but to get turned on by it? That’s _fucked_ _up_.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about Ford like _that_ before, but that was a result of how close they had been and how close Stan _hasn’t_ been with anyone in such a long time. It’s not like he’s willingly chose to have these thoughts, they just _happen_.

But this time feels different somehow, maybe it’s because it’s not just him and his hand in the back of his car or on the bed of some gross ass motel.

The guy says nothing else, but Stan can see his silhouette even in the dim light of the closet and his body language reeks of fight or flight, yet at the same time he reads of restrained curiosity. Heh, maybe the nerd _does_ want a blowjob and he could do worse; at least Stan’s got skills and the right amount of shamelessness to give the kind of blowjob that leaves a guy shaking afterwards.

He frowns as the man places his hands to the door; he must be seeing things, or more precisely seeing what he _wants_ to see, for the hands look familiar, _way too familiar_ for it to be true. For a moment there Stan could’ve sworn he saw six fingers on each hand, but what’s the chance of that being true? Sixer’s probably miles away from here, as far away as he can get from Stan or, in this case, Stan’s mouth.

He almost laughs at the thought. Him accidentally giving his brother a blowjob in a frat house? The idea is insane is what it is! But perhaps not as insane as the fact that maybe Stan wants that, well maybe not the anonymous part, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Sixer’s dick thrusting against the inside of his throat.

Stan may be many things, but a liar he is not. Well, okay he _is_ a liar, he’d been totally lying about that part, but at the same time he’s also more truthful than someone of his shitty circumstances should ever be. It’s a paradoxical tightrope that he’s got to walk, that’s for sure, but all the same that’s just who he is.

Stan rolls his eyes when the guy can’t seem to make up his mind, I mean how hard is it to whip your dick out and put it in some dude’s mouth? The only thing that should be hard here is that guy’s cock resting on the tip of his tongue.

He places his hand to the slits of the door and gestures for the guy to hurry up, his finger crooking in a ‘come hither’ gesture. If he doesn’t take the hint now, he never will.

It takes a couple of seconds but he finally unzips his fly and presses the blunt head of his dick through the crack in the door. He grunts when Stan wraps a hand around the base of his cock.

“A-ah.” The other guy moans as Stan circles his tongue around the head of his cock, as Stan pumps his hand up and down the length his member. Stan can feel him twitching in his mouth, as he sucks at the tip until his cheeks are hollowing out, Stan can feel him twitching as he bobs his head up and down fast enough to give himself whiplash.

He sucks rhythmically at the head, his hand squeezing at the base every now and again. He can feel the guy’s hips stuttering against the door as pre-come beads at the slit. “O-oh.” He groans, giving a few abortive thrusts into Stan’s mouth. “ _O-oh fuck_.” He continues, voice breaking when a particularly hard thrust has him lodging his dick inside of Stan’s throat.

Not one to ignore an opportunity he keeps the guy’s dick there, holding him inside of his mouth. He manages to a couple of breaths through his nose as he lowers his lips to his mound, at this point the dick is deep enough to choke him.

He relaxes his throat, letting the dick slip in and out of it, letting the other man use him for his own pleasure as he takes to face fucking Stan with about as much decorum as a drunk nun. He can feel that dick filling his throat, twitching against his tongue and somehow hardening even more.

Stan pokes a tongue at the veins no doubt turning purple at his touch and hears the nerd gasp liking a dying antelope, he’s gasping like his soul is being sucked out through his dick. Stan sucks and licks at the pre-come pooling at the slit, he hums around the member shuddering inside of his mouth as he tastes the other man on his tongue.

 Stan can tell the other man is reaching the end, that his sense of restraint is fraying at the edges as he pumps his hips against the wood hard enough to rattle the door frame. Any harder and the door’s going to break down at the hinges and fall flat on his face.

Alas poor Stanley, we knew he sucked cock; is probably what they’d write in his obituary, or something like that. That’s if someone gave enough of a shit to even write one, that is, and besides it’s not like he’s rolling in friends. The only ‘friends’ he has nowadays are the johns that frequent his services, or some of those Colombian cartel owners that often request his help in smuggling ‘perfectly legal’ goods across the border.

Stan pulls away from his current client’s dick to breathe and he smirks at the way the guy’s hips chase after him, he smirks at the way he grunts in frustration as if he’s been waiting his whole life to coat the inside of Stan’s mouth creamy white.

Stan takes a second to admire the reddened skin of his client’s dick, takes a moment to admire how it spasms and hardens in his grip. He takes a moment to grin, his teeth sharp and full of mischievous promise, as he takes in the pre-ejaculate wetting the head of his dick.

“Please.” The guy begs on the other side of the door, his voice sounding enough like Ford’s that Stan’s deeply considering pulling out his own dick in response.

Stan can feel his own cock growing stiff and hard inside of his slacks, but he’s much too tired and hungry to make enough effort to get himself off. There’s always later and it’s not like he isn’t used to jerking it in his car already, there’s a reason why he’s got a box of tissues in the backseat and it isn’t for impromptu sneezing that’s for sure.

He pumps the guy a few times and just savours his reactions. The way he rolls his hips to the way he grunts every time Stan gives a twist of his hand, it’d be endearing if it weren’t for the small matter of this guy being a complete stranger. Stan doesn’t make a habit of growing attached to his customers, he’s made that mistake before and he has the scars to prove it.

He doesn’t get attached to clients anymore, not after last time. Last time he’d thought that he could get out of this life, that he could just drive off into the sunset and everything would be okay. He’s grown up since then and besides; he doesn’t want another Jimmy Snakes on his hands.

“Please…!” The other man pants, voice heavy and wheezy from exertion. “Please, ah…finish?” He asks all out of breath and sexy, not that Stan wants to admit to the last one.

Stan knows this nerd ain’t got long until he blows his load, he can hear him keening against the wood and he can feel the tension coiling in his balls as he fondles and squeezes them in his palm. It won’t be long now.

He works his jaw a little, trying to ease out the soreness from one too many blowjobs. He doesn’t quite soothe it, but he manages to loosen it up enough that he can go back down for seconds.

 Before the john can ask again Stan grabs his dick by the base and angles it back towards his mouth, he takes it inside of his throat in one quick movement that has the clean cut nerd swearing underneath his breath. Stan’s not one to brag, but this is most certainly one of his better blowjobs, he can tell; the john’s thighs are practically shaking, so much so even he can tell from his position behind the door.

Stan himself moans as the guy starts fucking his face in earnest, it’s like he’s really trying to make the most of what Stan is going to assume will be his first and last anonymous BJ. Stan knows the only reason this guy is here right now is because he’s pretty much been tricked into it, at the very least Stan’s happy that he seems to be enjoying his services regardless of how he got here.

It’s the kind of thing that really makes Stan happy with his skills, they may not be much and they may be lewd as fuck, but they’re his skills nonetheless.

He rolls the guy’s balls in his left hand as he bobs his head up and down, he tastes a steady stream of pre-come on the tip of his tongue before he feels the cock convulse inside his throat. He sucks hard, hoping to end this and as he expected the guy comes, hips thrusting frantically, and his dick twitching hard enough to register as a seismic anomaly, he shoots down Stan’s throat.

Stan swallows his seed and hold back a grimace as it settles in his too empty stomach. He gives a few more jerks of his cock, making sure to milk him for all he’s worth. The other man is really moaning into it, he’s almost loud enough to wake the dead at this point and Stan can’t help but to feel pride that he’s managed to get this virginal little nerd to come so hard that he’s an incoherent mess.

When he finishes Stan pulls off and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. It ain’t a graceful way to clean himself up, but it’s as good as he’s going to get in an empty ass closet with only the clothes on his back to work with.

For a while they both just stay there, silently panting to gain their breath back. Stan’s leaning his head against the door whilst the guy awkwardly zips up his pants and stands there for a moment, indecision having returned despite the effects of a powerful orgasm.

“A-ah, that was-” The john cuts himself off, deep voice stalling in his throat. “-amazing.” He finishes with a polite cough and what Stan would assume a blush. Before Stan can open his mouth to make a smart ass remark the guy slides a couple of notes through the gap, but it isn’t the amount that stalls Stan’s heart inside his chest it’s the number of fingers on the hand that’s holding them; six.

 _Six_ fucking fingers, six! This has to be some fucked up nightmare, some kind of wacked out coincidence. I-it can’t be, Sixer! It just can’t be…and yet he can feel it deep within his gut, he can tell all that he’s denying is true.

He opens his mouth this time around and no amount of awkwardness or life changing reveals can stop him, no matter how much his small amount of common sense would rather he didn’t speak. “Sixer?” Stan questions, voice rough from the over enthusiastic use of his throat and in the dim light he sees the man’s silhouette freeze in place.

With a shaky voice the other man responds, his tone as unsure as Stan himself feels. “…Stanley?” Before Stan can answer a six fingered hand lands on top of the door handle and slowly, as If reluctantly, he turns it and the truth is fully confirmed as the door creaks open revealing Stan come stained and kneeling on the floor.


End file.
